àðàâèéñêèõ ñòåïÿõ, îêîí÷àíèå

CHAPTER IX.

Arms in Soudan — Tactics — Emulation on the Field — Materials of Weapons — Archers — War-Song — Breeds of Horses — Education — Food — Price of Horses — Story of a Tamahan — Winged and Speaking Horses — Metempsychosis — Poets — Kings in War — Slave-hunts, manner of — The Firman — Collecting Capital — Recruits — Sultan of the Hunt — Sharing the Spoil — Other Regulations — Grain-Nests — Treatment of Slaves — Mortality — Justification of Slavery — Savage love of Country — Manners.

The people of Soudan do not, in general, possess muskets, or cannons, or fortresses. In battle, their horsemen are armed with the javelin and the sabre, and the footmen with the spear or the arrow. The latter has a buckler to protect himself, and the former a helmet or coat of mail, or a padded tunic. Horses are covered with thick housing to protect them against injury.

Each people has a certain traditional system of tactics, which it clings to, and will not alter or improve in any way. The Forians divide their army into five divisions,—the vanguard, the rear-guard, the main body, and the right and left wings. The vedettes and scouts are spread all around during the march. Every great functionary has a military[280] character. The flags or standards are always placed in front of the Sultan, under the command of the king and a body of chosen men. The Forian flags are either red or white, and so are those of Wada;, except that in the latter country the red are more common. The Forian Sultan is preceded by ten banners, and the Wada;an by at least thirty, which are never lowered unless the prince is killed or taken prisoner. No Sultan must fly after a battle, so that in case of defeat he must be killed or taken prisoner. As long as the fight lasts, the drums do not cease a moment to beat.

On the eve of a battle, each party chooses some sign by which the soldiers are to be distinguished; as, for example, a band of bark round the right wrist. In the absence of this precaution, as soon as the m;l;e begins, it would be impossible to know friends from enemies, for there are no uniforms and no distinctions of colour.

When the Forian troops charge an enemy they display great animation. The horsemen brandish their swords, and each chief of a Kardous, or squadron, sets up a song, to which his men reply. At the time of the revolt of Mohammed Kourra I heard an Emin sing these words:—“O-nas dio-ba-in,” which means, “The word which you have in you;” and the soldiers replied, Kel-boa—“Come, say it.” Then the chief went on, “O-nas dio-Keih,” and the soldiers answered, Kel-boa ye kel-boa—“Come, say it: ha! ha! say it.” In this way they worked[281] up their courage, and each seemed to become an inexpugnable tower.

The armour of the Forians is of various kinds, consisting of casques with falls of mail, that cover the shoulders and protect the neck, or of mere head-pieces. Some horsemen have cuirasses covered with crocodiles’ skin; and, in the infantry, I have seen bucklers made of the same material. When a cavalier is fully armed and equipped, mounted upon a horse completely clothed with red, he does in reality present a terrible appearance, even alone; but a thousand men, thus arranged, form a really terrific spectacle. When a high-placed functionary has been removed, and another by intrigue substituted, the two generally consider themselves as enemies. When, therefore, a battle begins, the man who has been disgraced seeks out his rival, and cries:—Ya wendai Bism Illah,—“Come, comrade, on, in the name of God.” If the person thus challenged complies, and behaves with courage, no more is said; but, if not, the affair is reported to the Sultan, and the former occupant is restored to his place. Similar challenges take place between subjects who have never occupied any position. If one of them plays the poltroon, his wife generally asks for a divorce, and no one seeks his daughter or his sister in marriage.

Foot soldiers, when they go into battle, collect their drapery like a shawl round their waist, and tuck up their sleeves. Each man has a buckler and[282] three, four, or five lances, one of which is a long pike, whilst the others are javelins for throwing. It was Zou-Yezen, a Hamyaritic prince, who first armed the tops of lances with iron. Before his time sharp horns were used. There are various kinds of spears used in Darfur, the shafts of which are sometimes made of ebony wood, and sometimes of hard roots of trees straightened by fire. The iron heads now used are of various forms, some of them being smooth, others serrated, others with heavy balls of iron, to increase the force of the blow. Formerly the people of Soudan used to have large bucklers as high as themselves; but these were found to be inconvenient, and small shields used with dexterity supply their place. The best are made of the skin of an aquatic animal called issins. Others are manufactured, as I have said, of the skin of the crocodile, or of the rhinoceros. The worst are those made of elephant-skin, which, though thick, are easily pierced by a lance. Bows and arrows are not used by the Muslim blacks of Soudan, but they have companies of archers composed of Pagan slaves, who form a redoubtable element in their armies. In the time of the revolt of Sheikh Kourra, it was these slave-archers who prevented, one evening after dark, the insurgents from penetrating into the dwelling of the Sultan. I was a witness of this scene. The archers, to the number of a thousand, overwhelmed the partisans of Kourra with a shower of arrows, and forced them to retreat with great loss.[283] The archers do not aim straight at the enemy, but cause their arrows to describe a curve in the air. The heads are of the same form as those of the lances, and are often so slightly fixed to the reed that they are left in the wound. They are often poisoned. The bows are wonderfully small, scarcely more than a span in length, and the arrows are still shorter. The wood used is very hard, and the strings are made of the tendons of buffaloes. The quivers consist in a little sack, in which are carried sometimes as many as two hundred arrows.

When the infantry is ranged in order of battle, it sings various kinds of songs; for example, this one:—“Lellee Lellee, let us go. The dust of the battle rises in the east. Ask the buffalo if his helmet be brilliant. The buffalo is in the midst of our horsemen. Fear shame, soldiers; fear shame. The buffalo shall meet with his like.” This song, chanted in unison by a vast body of soldiers, appeared to me in the original very exciting, but, like all other songs, it loses by translation. The captains begin the first line, and the men take up the burthen. The corps of Fertyt, specially attached to the person of the prince, sing a song of which I could never obtain any translation. These slaves are in great number in Darfur, but spread throughout the country at separate stations.

Horses form, for the Soudan populations, one of the most precious articles of property. The Prophet said,—“To the manes of coursers shall be attached[284] victory to the end of the world.” The Dongola and Egyptian breeds are much sought after in Darfur. The former have long legs, brilliant coats, and are generally black; but the Egyptian horses are better proportioned and more graceful, and are easily trained for war. They are generally bay. Those which are preferred are of middle height, with moderately long legs, slim and short barrels, broad buttocks, and well-developed chest. The grooms train them to singular habits, teaching them cleanliness during great ceremonies, and compelling them, when necessary, to remain for hours perfectly tranquil, like statues. If any horse ridden by the Sultan commits any act of impropriety, he is immediately dismounted and sent home to be beaten.

When I was in Darfur I often admired the elegance and grace of the steeds of the Sultan. On asking the grooms how they succeeded in producing these qualities, I was told that the animals were fed on green food from the neighbourhood of Mount Koussa, and on a kind of paste made of millet mixed with honey. Every morning also they drink warm milk.

The horses of Forian breed are abominable hacks, with round bellies and savage characters. I never saw such indocile brutes. It is almost impossible to keep them to any particular course. They are, however, very hard and sturdy, and capable of supporting immense fatigue.

But the best horses in Darfur are those of the[285] Bedawin Arabs, which are directly derived from Arabia. They are carefully fed in the pasturages, given warm milk to drink, and constantly rubbed down with melted butter. The Bedawin, in his solitary plains, fasten for the night, to the leg of his horse, an iron shackle with a long chain, fixed to his bed. The horse, accustomed to attacks, to flights, to forays, and incursions of every kind, hears the slightest noise in the dark, and, if it be at all suspicious, neighs and stamps on the ground to wake its master. By day it is always piquetted near the tent. At whatever hour it may be, as soon as any cry of alarm is heard, the women of the tribe instantly saddle the horses, whilst the Bedawin gets ready his arms, so that, in the twinkling of an eye, there is a body of cavalry ready to ride out of the camp.[55]

The Arabs value their horses at extravagant prices, especially if they have acquired any reputation. Sometimes a four-year-old mare with its foal sells for the price of a hundred cows. The dearest horses are the runners of three kamins, or relays; for there are steeds which run races of one, two, or three kamins. Sometimes a horse is pitted to run[286] three relays, and starts with ten competitors for the distance of an hour. Then there are ten other competitors ready to take up the race, and so on for another time. It often happens that a horse wins these three races successively. In Darfur and Wada; there are sometimes found horses worthy of emulating the Arabs for their swiftness and vigour. The following narrative is curious, in reference to this subject:—An inhabitant of Dar-Tamah once bought a very young foal of noble blood, and trained it with most careful attention. When it was old enough he exercised it constantly, and found that it had no rival in speed. It happens that, between Tamah and Wada;, there is a ravine or chasm in the earth, about two kosabah broad, that is to say, about six fathoms. The Tamahan resolved to peril his life, and see if he could leap this ravine. He succeeded several times, and, being now sure of his safety, began riding him to the border provinces of Wada;, and hanging about the wells where the young girls used to come and fetch water. Whenever he perceived any one that pleased him by her beauty, he used to snatch her up and ride away with her. Her friends would pursue, thinking that the ravine would be an insurmountable obstacle to his flight. But the bold Tamahan always leaped the chasm and escaped in safety.[56]

In some countries of Soudan there exist very singular ideas relative to horses. Among others, it[287] is said that a man had a magnificent courser, of whom he was passionately fond, and visited night and day. One night, however, he went softly, at an unaccustomed hour, to see him, and beheld great wings spreading out from his side. The man was petrified with fear, and the horse, suddenly closing up and concealing his wings, said,—“The first time that thou comest, without warning me of thy approach, thou shalt repent.” The people of Darfur, in fact, are persuaded that the swiftness of horses arises from their having real, but invisible, wings. They also believe that these animals have a language of their own, and possess certain human sentiments, as, for example, modesty. On certain occasions they throw great veils over their stallions and their mares.

A Forian possessed a horse which had often saved his life by his speed, and which he carefully tended. His wife died and he married again. The new wife sometimes gave the horse its ration mixed with dust, and left the litter untidy. The man, too, since his new marriage, no longer attended on his beast with the same care. One day he was in great danger and could not escape. He was made prisoner with his horse and reduced to groom it. He now carefully cleaned and attended on the animal, who one day said to him,—“This is the recompense of the man who neglects his horse.” The man was frightened and remained still, and the horse went on,—“Fear nothing, there is no harm. Wilt[288] thou promise me, if I restore thee to liberty, always to have the same care of me that thou hast now?” “I promise it.” “Well, then, unloose me, mount, and fear not.” The Forian did as he was required, and succeeded, in spite of a pursuit, in escaping.

The Temourkeh have fancies of a different kind. They believe that, when one of them dies, after remaining three days in his tomb, he is transported to another country, and marries a new wife. The Massalit imagine that every one of them, after death, passes into the body of some animal—of a hy;na, for example, or a cat.

To return to the subject of horses. Bays, with white feet and a white star on the forehead, are often celebrated by poets, who improvise verses for the sake of reward, in the presence of the Sultan. They are generally nomadic Arabs; the blacks having little poetical taste. Sometimes, under learned princes, there have been Ulemas distinguished as poets. The Forians derive auguries from certain motions of their horses. If they stretch the fore legs abroad, victory is expected; but if the hind legs, defeat.

All these customs and ideas, which I have described as Forian, may be applied almost exactly to Wada;, especially those which have reference to war. The Wada;ans, however, are less particular in their military adornments, and do not sing in battle.

The Fertyt do not possess horses—oxen are the only domestic animals they know. In most tribes[289] the women act as beasts of burthen. When in war, they place their king on a kind of ebony stool, borne by relays of four men.

If they are defeated, they set his majesty down and leave him, for no Sultan must fly. However, according to ancient custom, no prince is killed in a m;l;e, except by accident. If he be taken prisoner, he is generally treated with respect. Kadis, Ulemas, and musicians, are also spared, if taken, and set free. It is not customary, however, if free women and children are taken, to sell them as slaves, although Saboun did so, as an exemplary punishment, when he took Bagirmeh.

The Ghazwah, or slave-hunts, in Dar-Fertyt, and amongst the Jenakherah, are carried on in a different manner in Darfur and Wada;. In the latter country, the Sultan sends one of his governors with a troop, chosen beforehand, to which no strangers attach themselves; but in Darfur things are managed differently. There, even a private individual, if he thinks himself capable of conducting a Ghazwah, demands a salatieh, and, if he obtains it, sets out with as many people as he can collect.

This is the way in which a complete Ghazia, or Ghazwah, is managed. He who can make a present to the Sultan, and who has some friend at court, goes to the Fasher in the first day of summer, some time before the beginning of the rains. The best offering to make to a Sultan is a horse ready bridled and saddled, with a slave to lead him. If the prince accepts[290] the present, and permits the expedition, he gives to the solicitor a salatieh, that is to say, a tall lance, and delivers a permission of excursion, conceived, for example, in the following terms:—

“In the name of the Great Sultan, the refuge and the support of all, the glory of the Arab kings and of the non-Arab kings, master of the neck of all nations, sovereign of the two lands and the two seas, servant of the two holy cities, putting his hope in the God of justice and longanimity, the Sultan Mohammed Fadhl, the victorious, to all those who these presents may see, emins, warriors, shartai, damleg, and chiefs of our armies,

“We, Sultan favoured of God, sustained by his special grace, victorious Sultan, have gratified with our favours and our benevolence such an one, son of such an one, and have given to him a salatieh to conduct an expedition into Dar-Fertyt, and make a Ghazwah, in the direction of such a tribe. All those who may accompany him in his enterprise shall be free from blame on our part—in testimony of which the present firman has emanated from our sublime generosity and our noble bounties. Far, far, may all opposition be, all acts of malevolence, against this mandate. We have recommended to the bearer of this permission to act with justice towards those who may follow this expedition, and to conduct himself with the equity and the moderation which the fear of God inspires, as regards the portion of slaves that is to fall to his share. Salutations.”

[291]Supplied with the firman of this kind, and with the salatieh, which confers the authority of chief of a Ghazwah, the solicitor leaves the dwelling of the Sultan, and, accompanied by one or two servants, places himself on the great square of the Fasher. There he crouches on a carpet which is spread upon the ground, and the salatieh is stuck up before him. Meanwhile a domestic beats a tambourine. People begin to collect from all sides and crowd around him, and learn that he has been named chief of a Ghazwah, and has obtained a firman. Merchants soon come forward with stuffs for garments. The chief buys as much as he pleases, according to the presumed profit of his expedition, and always on credit. The price varies according to circumstances. For example, when a merchant wishes himself to accompany the expedition, and the quantity of goods he has sold is worth only one slave at the Fasher, the chief of the Ghazwah agrees to deliver five or six slaves in the Dar-Fertyt itself; but if, on the contrary, the merchant does not choose to follow the expedition, and prefers waiting till it returns, he agrees to receive only two or three slaves. When the bargain is concluded, the master of the salatieh gives to the merchant a written acknowledgment. In this way he collects, not only garments, but horses, camels, asses, &c. Some chiefs, who inspire confidence, contract in this way for more than five or six hundred slaves.

While these preliminaries are going on, many people come and offer to associate themselves with[292] the leader of the expedition; and he then causes to be transcribed several copies of his firman, and gives one to each, with a horse or camel for the journey.

He also points out to these, his first hunting companions, the road they are to take, and divides them into ten squads, each of which has a chief. The rendezvous is always beyond the southern limits of Darfur.

Each chief of a squad now takes a different route, and passes through the towns and villages beating a tambourine, collecting the inhabitants, communicating the contents of the firman, pointing out the conditions offered by the undertaker of the hunt, and promising, for example, that the owner of the salatieh will only take, at the first jebayeh, or division of spoil, the third of the slaves which each hunter has taken, and at the second division a quarter. Generally a certain number of young Forians, of poor families, join the expedition.

The master of the salatieh also stops in the places which he traverses to collect companions, and having rested awhile in his own village, proceeds to the general rendezvous. Once there, he takes the title of Sultan, and composes a kind of court out of those to whom he has delivered copies of the firman. There have been sultans of Ghazwah who have found themselves at the head of nine or ten thousand people or more. His court is a perfect imitation of the court of the real Sultan. He delivers clothes to his body-guard, and distributes to them his camels, his asses, and his horses. Sometimes[293] a great many people come flocking in without having been recruited; but all are obliged to admit the absolute authority of this temporary sultan.

The rules of distribution of the products of the hunt are fixed and known. All slaves taken without resistance fall to the lot of the sultan, amongst whose perquisites, likewise, are the presents given by the kings of the adjoining provinces. The expedition pushes on as far as it can, and then one evening it is announced that the division of profit is to be made the next day. This division takes place as follows:—The sultan causes a circular enclosure, or zeribeh, with two openings, to be made. The people of the Ghazwah come early in the morning with the slaves they have caught. If the sultan is reasonable, he takes only a third, but he sometimes exacts one-half. The zeribeh is made of prickly branches. The sultan sits in the middle, and his servants station themselves at the issues. Then all the slave-catchers, one by one, bring in their lots, the number of which is immediately written down. If there are only two, the sultan takes the better, and the other is left to his owner, who receives a paper, certifying that he has submitted to the law of partition. He who has only taken one slave is put aside until another in the same predicament comes, when the sultan takes one and leaves the other to be divided. All those kept by the sultan remain in the zeribeh. This ceremony lasts sometimes ten days, or even a month.

[294]When the division has been made, the master of the salatieh pays his debts, and then continues the hunt, returning, however, towards Darfur. When within a few days’ march there is a second division made.

The sultan is entitled to every disputed slave, and to the property of all who die, without direct heirs, on the road. He, however, is obliged to take from his share the presents to be made to the Sultan and to the great people who have assisted him in obtaining his privilege.

The master of a salatieh, when the excursion has been fortunate, easily acquits all expenses, pays his debts, makes the necessary presents, and has a hundred slaves left for himself. Besides this, the horses, the camels, the asses, and all the harness and baggage brought back, remain as his property. He resumes possession of everything he has distributed, except the garments. In fine, each individual returns to his country with the booty which, by the grace of God, he has been able to take.

The leader of a hunt always treats with consideration the people who compose his court, and sometimes does not take from them any of their share. On the other hand, it is they who watch over his safety, and attend to him. At each halt they get ready a shelter for him, and send people forward to prepare each station. For this purpose, they bring with them from Darfur skins of animals, millet-stalks, and poles sufficient to make every day[295] an enclosure or dwelling for the sultan. These materials are carried from camp to camp. In fine, the whole ceremonial of this expedition resembles the march of a real Sultan.

When the troops surround one of the stations of the Fertyt, and the inhabitants yield without resistance, the sultan takes the chief as a prisoner, treats him honourably, gives him a dress, and afterwards liberates him; but he seizes on all the grown men, the youths, the women, and girls, leaving only the old people and those who do not seem to be in a state to undergo the fatigues of a journey. The leader of a hunt may form or break alliances with tribes who agree to become tributary to Darfur; but he is obliged to act according to the rules of justice and equity. At any rate, he is induced to behave well towards his subordinates, by the hope of taking them along with him another year.

One of the duties of the officers of the sultan is to search out the nests in which the Fertyt hide their grain; for, finding themselves constantly attacked by their neighbours, these people conceal their provisions in the trees so carefully, that an unaccustomed traveller would never suspect their existence. They choose for this purpose trees which are very leafy and tufty. They cut a certain number of branches, with which they make a kind of large hurdle; on this they spread, first, a bed of leaves, and then a bed of millet-husks; then they build thereon a little conical hut, in which they pile their[296] grain, and, closing up the opening, leave it until they require it for their use. The thickness of the leaves, and the intricacy of the branches, entirely conceal these a;rial barns. The whole country is covered with monstrous trees growing in forests, so that it is not easy to discover these stores.

The Fertyt who inhabit the highlands bury their grain in matmourah, or deep pits, lined with millet leaves. The Forians also keep their corn in matmourah, though the rich deposit their harvests in vast sheds.

The men who obtain permission to go upon slave-hunts have their itinerary marked down beforehand, and it is forbidden to overpass the limits set. This is done to prevent different Ghazwah from meeting and fighting one with the other. The Sultan sometimes delivers sixty or seventy salatieh in the course of a year; but many of these expeditions are not important in number. They sometimes consist of as few as fifteen men. These hunts bring into the hands of the Forians a considerable number of slaves. If they all arrived in Darfur, the country would be overstocked; but many of them die of ill-treatment during the journey, or are killed. If a slave, from fatigue or other reasons, determines not to proceed, he sits down and says, “Kongorongo,” that is to say, “Kill me.” He is instantly killed with clubs in presence of his companions, in order to frighten them, and deter them from imitating his example. Women are treated in the same manner. Many of the prisoners[297] die of fatigue by the way, and others of diarrh;a, caused by change of food. Sometimes epidemic diseases, such as dysentery, seize the whole flock, and nearly all perish. Two or three out of twenty are often all that survive. On arriving in Darfur many also perish from the effects of the climate, though such as are treated with gentleness, and are submitted to a proper regimen, generally survive. Acclimated slaves sell for a much higher price than those who have been recently brought.

But, in any case, this sudden change of condition exposes the slaves to dangerous diseases. Moreover, melancholy seizes them, especially if they fear to be sold to stranger Arabs. They are persuaded that these Arabs are in want of meat, and come and buy them for food, and to use their brains for soap, and their blood for dyeing garments red. This belief is deeply implanted in the minds of all the slaves, and the Forians take advantage of it to reduce the indocile by fear. It is sufficient to threaten to sell them to the Jellabs to bring them to a sense of duty. The slaves do not get quit of their fear until they have been some time in the hands of the Arabs; but, during the whole length of the journey, they remain in continual terror. If we add to this cause the excessive fatigue of the march, the extremes of heat and cold in the deserts, it will not appear surprising that they die by thousands on the way. Only the very strong or the very fortunate reach as far as Egypt. I have seen Jellabs leave Wada; with a[298] hundred slaves, and lose them all by cold; and others have been deprived of still greater numbers by heat and thirst; whilst others, again, out of a single flock, find not one wanting. All this depends on the will of the Most High.

Our holy law permits the sale and exportation of slaves, but on the express condition that we should act with the fear of God before our eyes; which sentiment, indeed, should be the guide of all our actions. The reasons by which slavery is justified are these:— God has commanded his Prophet, the Prophet of Islam, to announce the Divine law to men, to call them to believe in the true God, and to employ the force of arms to constrain unbelievers to embrace the true faith. According to the Divine word itself, war is the legitimate and holy means to bring men under the yoke of religion; for as soon as the infidels feel the arms of Islam, and see their power humiliated, and their families led away into slavery, they will desire to enter into the right way, in order to preserve their persons and their goods. If they resist, and are obstinate in their unbelief, it is necessary to march in arms against them. However, before resorting to this extreme means, we must invite them to submit to the law of Islam, and warn them many times on the misfortunes they will bring upon themselves by their incredulity.

But the Prophet has also authorised the ransom of prisoners. “After the fight,” he says, “you may give liberty to prisoners or accept a ransom for them,[299] in order to put a stop to the calamities of war. As for those who obstinately repel my law, and reject the religion of Islam, offer them the choice between war and the obligation of an annual tribute, by which they may buy security and life. If they take up arms against you, whoever is made captive shall be sold.” Nevertheless, all men, as children of Adam, are equal; the only difference being, that some have adopted the faith of Islam, and others a different, that is, an erroneous faith.

The inhabitants of Muslim Soudan, in their excursions against the idolaters, do not observe what is prescribed by the word of God, and never call upon them before the attack to embrace Islamism. They rush suddenly on the tribes of the Fertyt and Jenakherah, and, without preliminaries, without appeal to faith, without pacific attempts at proselytism, they assail, combat, take them as slaves, and sell them. But the fact of capture once accomplished, these people, being idolaters, it becomes lawful for Muslims to sell them. He who has acquired possession of a slave, man or woman, is bound to conduct himself towards him or her according to the principles of justice and religion. He must not exact from his slaves too great an amount of work. He must feed them with the food which he prepares for himself and his family, and he must clothe them with care; for a slave is likewise the creature of God.

Captives are treated in exactly the same manner in Darfur and Wada;, but there is a difference in the[300] way in which slave-hunts are carried on. In the former country, although the authority comes direct from the Sultan, he has nothing to do with the details. But in Wada;, where there is greater respect for the sovereign power, a general is chosen to perform a Ghazwah, and nearly the whole product goes into the hands of the Sultan. The slaves taken on these occasions are all equally without belief in God, without knowledge of a Prophet or revelation, without religion or civil law. They adore blocks of stone, and build chapels for these divinities, and make offerings to them of lances and rods of iron. I had once a slave from Dar-Binah, who, hearing mention of God, observed that his God was much greater than ours. I asked him what he meant, and he said his God was so large, holding his hands at a certain distance the one from the other. I told him that there was only one God for all the world, for all countries, and all climates; that he was great, powerful, and invisible; and I repeated these words until my slave understood them. The ignorance of these people, and their want of authoritative traditions, render it easy to instil a new religion into them. I have seen a young girl learn the Muslim profession of faith the very day of her capture, and repeat it without emotion or surprise.

These people are wonderfully ignorant, and only learn that there are other men on the face of the earth besides themselves by the periodical appearance of the Ghazwah. They have many singular[301] customs; among others, they are very particular in preventing marriage within certain degrees of consanguinity. This is more remarkable, because both sexes constantly mix together nearly entirely naked. Women and men wear only a little apron, or cover themselves with leaves. By what inspiration have they been able to establish and preserve more rigid restrictions than Muslims?

All these people lead a poor and miserable life; yet they passionately love their country, and cling to the place which has given them birth. If they leave their villages and their huts, or are taken away into slavery, their thoughts and their desires carry them constantly back to their country. In their childlike simplicity they often fly away from their masters, to endeavour to return to their miserable dwelling-places; and, when they are pursued, they are always found toiling back on the direct road. They are so simple-minded, that although every year their country is ravaged by slave-hunts, those that escape always return to the old spot and reconstruct their villages, and wait until they are again disturbed.

I have already said that they take one precaution, namely, to hide their store of grain in the trees. Some also build their dwelling-places there, cutting out a space amidst the branches, and constructing a conical hut, well secured against the rain. To this nest the Fertyt and his wife climb up by means of the nobs and projections of the trunk.[302] Sometimes a single tree bears the grain-store and the hut; but they are generally separate.

These savages have wonderful skill in certain arts. The shafts of their javelins and lances are admirably polished; and the ebony stools they make would do credit to the workshops of the most civilised nations. But, when we consider their miserable existence, and how they are deprived of all that contributes to the enjoyment of life, such as agreeable food and proper garments, we must class them among the lowest savages. Glory be to the Eternal, who has distributed societies in various forms, according to his pleasure!
[303]CHAPTER X.

Stay in Darfur — Sheikh desires to depart — Presents of Saboun — Inspectors — A Fair in the Desert — A Guide — A Blood-feud — The Well of Daum — Hostile Tribe — A Flag of Truce — Attack — An Interview — A Camel for a Camel — A Murder — Harassing March — The Tibboo-Reshad — An Odd Sultan — Fresh Persecution — Hungry Majesties — Loss of Three Slaves and an Ass — The Sheikh in Love — Departure — Tibboo Camels — Killing the Devil — Character — Thirst of the Desert.

When I arrived in Wada;, my father, as I have said, had departed for Tunis. He thought it was my fault that I had delayed so long to come and join him; for he had written to the Sultan of Darfur and the Fakih Malik, praying them to allow me to depart. Confiding, therefore, the care of his house, his children, and his crops, to my uncle Zarouk, he had departed. This annoyed me much, and I resolved not to lay down the staff of the traveller, but to hasten after my father. The kindness of Sultan Saboun, however, made me stay. He sent me as presents many fine horses, beautiful slaves, and robes of price, which softened my sorrow. But as Ahmed-el-Fasi had succeeded my father in the post of vizier, and was a personal enemy, I soon[304] found that he was undermining me. The Sultan began to look at me with coldness, and his presents ceased.

On the other hand, my uncle Zarouk seized on the revenue of my land, and gave me only sufficient to prevent my dying of hunger. He forbade me all interference in the management of my father’s property, telling me that I should spend it foolishly. For these reasons I was soon disgusted with Wada;, and asked permission of the Sultan to leave the country and depart for Fezzan. The yearly caravan was preparing to start. The permission I required was easily accorded by means of the Shereef Ahmed. I soon got ready, bought water-skins, provisions, and other necessary articles, and the day was at length fixed. Then I begged of Sultan Saboun some camels to carry my baggage; but he only sent me one young one, incapable as yet of undergoing the fatigue of travelling and carrying a burden. I complained aloud; but the Shereef Ahmed abused me for my greediness, and said the Sultan owed me nothing. I suppressed my disappointment, and exchanged the young camel and a little additional money for a strong one, and thereupon left Warah. But the caravan had scarcely reached the district of the Beni-Mahamyd, on the edge of the desert, when some messengers from Saboun brought me as a present from him three young slave-girls, a male slave, two excellent camels, and a fat bull, with which to make cadyd, or dried meat. We killed the bull at[305] once, and began to prepare the cadyd, giving thanks to the Sultan. When the meat was dried we filled our skins once more and departed. We had already received the visit of the inspectors, whose business it is to see that we are not taking away any free persons into slavery. Every slave in the caravan, young and old, was questioned individually. The inspectors liberate every one who can show himself to be of free origin, or prove that he was a Muslim before he was taken; also, any slave that may have been fraudulently taken from his owner.

For five days at the outset of our journey we traversed great plains of pasturage, where the Mahamyd wander with their flocks. At the end of this time we reached a well, at which it is customary for the Arabs, even Bidegats from the north-east of Wada; and other wandering tribes, to encamp and meet the caravan,—holding a kind of fair,—selling or letting out to the Jellabs, or the travellers, provisions, camels, utensils for the journey, skins, ropes, &c. God is my witness that I forget the name of the well. We halted there two days, and the camels were turned loose to feed.

Five days more took us to the well of Daum, so called from the trees of that name that surround it. Now it happened that our guide, or caravan master, named Ahmed, was an old man, who had passed the vicissitudes of this life. He belonged to a tribe of the Tibboos, named in Fezzan the Tibboo-Reshad,—or Tibboos of the Mountains. Ahmed had formerly[306] killed a member of another tribe; and ever since the people had been waiting for the opportunity of vengeance. After the accident, the murderer had fled to Dar-Seleih. Here he remained ten years, not daring to return to his tribe; but at length the love of home became too strong, and he desired to see his country, and the huts thereof, with his ancient dwelling-place. He believed that in ten years his visit would be forgotten; and he departed with our caravan as a guide, leaving a comfortable position in Wada;, where he had amassed wealth, which, along with his age, produced him great respect, and allowed him to fear nothing but God.

When he started with us he had with him more than a hundred and thirty persons, all relatives. The rest of the caravan was composed of fifteen Wada;ans and five Arabs, myself, a man of Tripoli, named the Reis Abdallah; a Fezzani, Mohammed Khayr Yasir; another Fezzani, the Seid Ahmed, from the village of Zouylah; and one named Khalyl, of Tripoli. In proceeding towards the well of Daum we lost our way in the desert, and fearing, if we moved on, that we should only lose time, we halted, made our camels kneel, and buried our water-skins, as deep as possible, beneath the baggage, to preserve them from the heat of the sun. Our caravan started, Ahmed took with him a certain number of his cousins, and searched through the desert to the right and to the left, seeking for the well which we ought by this time to have reached.[307] They remained a long time absent, and the day was far advanced when they returned. Their faces were grey with dust; but they brought joyful tidings, namely, that the well was near at hand. So we urged on our camels, and at last beheld the daum-trees in the distance. Every one began to cry out, “There they are! there they are! Those are the trees under which we are to rest this day!” We had scarcely uttered these words, when we beheld in front of us a troop of the Tibboos, called Turkman-Tibboos, and felt alarm. They rarely come to meet caravans, for they station towards Libya, divided into peoples of varying numbers, each with a Sultan, or king. The tribe that had met us had its principal station at a place called Marmar. They had known, for two or three months, by means of a traveller from Wada;, that the master of our caravan was to be Ahmed, against whom they had a blood-feud; and it was for this reason that they waylaid us on our journey.

They stood right in our path, and sent forward a man on a camel, who galloped rapidly towards us, as swift as a horse. It is marvellous to see how skilfully these Tibboo tribes manage their dromedaries, or riding-camels. They train and exercise them like horses, to numerous delicate man;uvres, and have no other rein but the zim;m, or light cord, which by one end is tied to a hole pierced in the moving edge of the animal’s nostril. Nearly all these marauding Tibboos are clothed in sheep-skins with[308] the wool on. He who advanced towards us had the litham over his face; that is to say, part of the stuff of his turban was wrapped three or four times round his head and visage, so that the eyes only were to be seen. When he was near to us he cried out, in his own language,—“Ho! people of the caravan, the Sultan is coming with his soldiers to the well. He forbids you to approach it. Know that you shall only do so when you have given up your guide to be killed, in expiation of the murder of one of our brothers. What are your intentions? Tell me, that I may inform the Sultan.”

One of the Tibboos of our caravan translated what the messenger said, and we all decided at once that we would not deliver up Ahmed to his enemies, and that if the Tibboos asked only for a rope’s end they should not have it. “Retrace thy steps,” said we to the envoy, “and tell thy master that we have nothing to do with him—that we have no one to give up. Go!”

The messenger galloped swiftly away to report our answer, and the Sultan prepared to attack us. Then the Tibboos, who formed part of our caravan, separated from us, and, with the exception of Ahmed and his family, went off to some distance. Our party, counting Ahmed, only contained twenty-five individuals,[57] not counting the slaves, who were in[309] great numbers. As we approached the well, the Tibboos advanced in a mass, all mounted two-and-two on about sixty or seventy camels. They rushed towards us, furiously casting their javelins. We, that is to say the five Arabs, waited for their approach, and fired a volley at them. Surprised, they turned back and fled like beaten wolves. We remained masters of the well, and encamped there. We drank, and allowed our camels to pasture on the wild herbage of the neighbourhood.

We thought that these savage Tibboos, whom we had so easily put to flight, had returned to their dwelling-places, and we rested at our well for two whole days; but, on the third, we suddenly heard loud cries and frightful imprecations. We sent to see what was the matter, and saw four camels resting near a body of armed people. Near them was our guide Ahmed, who stood amidst his people and the Wada;ans of our caravan. With the armed strangers was an old man, who seemed to be their chief. He had a piece of carpet tissue rolled round his head, four or six fingers in breadth, and about a cubit long. This old man was crouching down, like a dog or a hy;na, on his heels. The chief of the Wada;ans said to him,—

“Wherefore dost thou return? Thou hadst departed. What dost thou want? What dost thou expect?”

“Know,” was the reply, “that I am the Sultan of these deserts; and that I have as many soldiers[310] as you can count. What do I want? I come to advise you to deliver up Ahmed, if you wish to depart without blows or wounds. I know that you and I are not at war, but if you refuse my request there will be danger. That Ahmed slew my cousin, whom I loved as if he had been the son of my mother. It is my duty to avenge my cousin, and cleanse myself from the shame of leaving that murder unpunished.”

“But,” said the Wada;an chief, “art thou not afraid of being killed as thy cousin was killed?”

“I have no fear. He who kills me will be killed in his turn. We never forget this duty—never abandon the vengeance of blood, though we should be hacked to pieces with a knife.”

At these words of the obstinate old chief, Ahmed flew into a great rage, and insulted him, and was going to kill him. We restrained Ahmed; but, taking advantage of the agitation of all present, he slipped behind the Tibboos, and hamstrung the Sultan’s camel. Then the Sultan said to him,— “This, too, thou shalt dearly pay for. My camel shall be avenged; and I will yet hamstring many of thy camels. As for you all, not a moment of repose shall you have. I shall be ever at your heels to torment you.” These words now irritated the chief of the Wada;ans, who gave the old Sultan a heavy blow with his whip over the loins, and said,—“Be off, go to the devil, and do as thou pleasest! May Heaven confound thee, and he who begat thee!”

[311]The Sultan got up without wincing, and marched off with his men, affecting an air of contempt, and stifling his anger.

The day passed away. We filled our skins; arranged our luggage; but next morning, just as we were about to load the beasts of burden and get ready to march, the cry was heard in the caravan: “Wait, wait; one of the Wada;an camels has disappeared!” We paused; and presently afterwards louder cries arose. The caravan was in the greatest state of alarm; every one inquired what was the matter; and at last we learned that the Turkman-Tibboos had not only stolen a camel, but had seized one of our Wada;ans and slaughtered him. We divided at once into two parties, one of which hastened to the place where our companion had been slain, whilst the other remained to guard the slaves, the baggage, and the Camels. We found the victim bathed in blood, and struggling in the convulsions of death. In the distance we saw a cloud of camels, each with two men on its back, their faces shrouded in black lithams. They looked like crows perched upon camels. They managed their beasts with wonderful cleverness, and horses are not more docile and eager in the field of battle.

One of these Tibboos came forward to our party and cried: “Whither are you going? what do you expect to do? For the camel of which you deprived us by ham-stringing yesterday we have taken a better one. The price of the lash with the whip is[312] the life of one of your best men—that one who lies killed there. But this is not all; you will surely repent; and if it were not for your guns we would ride down on you and cut you all to pieces.”

We answered by firing on the troop in the distance; and they instantly fled, until they were like black spots on the horizon.

As for the Tibboos who originally formed part of our caravan, they remained thenceforward separate from us, marching alone. We were very much troubled and disquieted, fearing a sudden attack. We calculated all chances and raised the camp, marching away from the well; but the Tibboos accompanied us afar off, now and then making a false charge. They were present all the day long, now approaching, now flying, man;uvring all round, till the black night drew on. Then we halted, needing repose; but the furious Tibboos left us no peace. In spite of the darkness, one portion of these kept constantly disturbing us, whilst the other portion slept. Their object was to wear us out; and as we were few in numbers we could only get a very little rest. We knew that if any one of us were taken prisoner by the Tibboos he would instantly be killed. We dared not make reprisals, even if one of them had come amongst us; for we knew that this would exasperate them into a general attack. In their eyes, to kill a man is nothing. We resolved on a system of passive resistance, merely repelling their attacks. So we marched on for twenty days in this dreadful[313] state, ever in uncertainty and fear, until we came to the territories of another Sultan,—the country of the Tibboo-Reshad, or Tibboos of the Mountains. This is an arid region, covered with wells: the vegetation is meagre and rare.

But we were now, at length, free from disquietude, and could rejoice at being delivered from our enemies. It was midday when we entered the territory of the Tibboo-Reshad; but we continued our march, and towards evening halted. We now turned out our camels to graze, having no further fear of the rapacity of the Turkmans; but, as the sun was setting, we beheld approaching us whole swarms of the Tibboo-Reshad, who surrounded us like a cloud, though at a little distance. As each group arrived it alighted and encamped near the previous comers. We were watching this movement tranquilly, when we heard in the distance the sound of small tableh, or tambourines; upon which all the new-comers began crying: “Here comes the Sultan!” Presently a very common individual, with his wife behind him, came mounted on a camel. This was the only woman present. On reaching his people they saluted him, and helped his queen to dismount. Then they fixed up four stakes, and surrounded them with a melayeh; making a miserable little tent for their majesties. A Tibboo came forward and said pompously: “People of the caravan, come and do homage to the Sultan!” We went; and when we drew near[314] this caricature of royalty, we were ordered to sit down in three rows. An individual, dressed in a sheep-skin, announced himself a dragoman, and stood in front of us to convey the gracious commands of his sovereign. It appeared that he expected a good present; and told us that he wished to eat meat, which he had not done for a long time, and that he expected us to prepare a meal for the whole of his people. “Mind, be careful in the cookery,” he added; “let all be good and soon ready.” We answered that his commands should be complied with.

Whilst we were at work, the Sultan and his wife came out of their tent and drew near to us, so that I could examine them at my leisure. The Sultan was an old man,—decrepit, dry, lank, with thin beard, hollow cheeks, awkward gait, and dressed in a blue shirt, like that sometimes worn in Egypt. His countenance was wrapped in a black litham, so that he looked like a Copt in an ill-temper. In his left hand he carried a miserable lance with a broad head; and in his right a forked stick, used commonly by the Tibboos to drive their camels and push aside the branches of trees. As for the Sultana, she was a stunted old lady in a rumpled dress, and looked comically ugly. Both these potentates prowled through our tents without addressing a word of politeness to any one. When the supper was prepared, which was by nightfall, they and their troop[315] ate heartily, and expressed their satisfaction by ordering a similar repast to be got ready next day before the rising of the sun.

All this was not very pleasant; and we passed a short, uncomfortable night. We expected, after breakfast, however, to get away without further trouble; and, indeed, the strangers allowed us to depart and travel through the day. But at sunset the Sultan appeared again with his Tibboos, encamped near us, and claimed supper again. We began to fear that this famished Sultan would devour all our provisions. In the morning, having fed him once more, we proceeded over a rocky road, and by night reached a valley between three mountains, which we were told was the metropolis of that kingdom. Of course we had a banquet to prepare, not only for him and his escort, but for all his people. The hungry wretch, hearing that we had been attacked, had come to meet us, though, probably, with no other object than gormandising in this manner. There was no help. We had to feed the whole people during our stay, which we were obliged to prolong a little to take in a fresh provision of water.

The huts of the Tibboo-Reshad are set up at the foot of the mountains. The country appears sad and miserable, the only riches being some small flocks of sheep and goats, of which the owners drink the milk: it is their great luxury. The only trees are the seyal (Mimosa seyal of Forskall) and some[316] daums, the fruit of which is eaten by the Tibboos. When a caravan passes, and a camel dies of fatigue, these people seize the carcass and divide the flesh, preparing cadyd from it. The day of our departure, in the morning, just as we were about to start, I perceived that one of my slaves was missing. He had escaped during the night, taking with him two slave-girls, probably in order to sell them. We put off our journey a day; but I spent money uselessly in endeavouring to get back the fugitives. This, and other misfortunes, suggested to me the inflection, that when a man refuses the good that is offered him, he necessarily is forced to repent afterwards. When the idea of this unlucky journey presented itself to me, Sultan Saboun tried to dissuade me from it, advising me to remain in Wada; until the return of my father; but I was obstinate, and suffered in consequence.

The first of my tribulations was the loss of an excellent ass, which I prized much. I used to ride it, and preferred it to a camel. Not very long after we set out there was a frightful plain of sand, which fatigued our beasts very much. I knew my ass carried me well, and we often got a good way ahead. So, encouraged by this, I sat down to rest, and allowed the whole troop to get a long way ahead of me, thinking it would be easy to catch it up. When I tried, however, having miscalculated, I found this not easy, and only succeeded in reaching the rear-guard with great trouble. Now it happened that[317] behind the camels were marching numerous female slaves, one of whom was of extraordinary beauty—a very pearl. My ass, which was very tired, ran up to her, and placed itself by her side, as if to ask the succour of her benevolence, showing her how fatigued it was. I wished to lure it away; it grew obstinate; I kicked it with my heels; it stumbled. The young girl and the other slaves began to laugh at my plight, and say,—“Take away thy ass; go far from us, and allow us to walk in peace.” It was impossible for me to overcome the brute’s obstinacy; so I got down and gave it a kick in the belly, whereupon it fell dead, as if I had struck it with a knife. I remained stupified for awhile; but soon took off its trappings, put them on my shoulders, and with great difficulty reaching one of my camels, mounted it.

But my mind remained full of the beauty of the slave-girl, and I began to inquire of what country she was, and who was her master. It was told me that she belonged to one of our Tibboos, named Tchay; and I at once went and proposed a bargain. “I will not sell my slave,” said he, “except for four other slaves of the same age; that is, I shall not sell her at all. I intend her to be the governess of my house; I am not married; she shall be my wife.” I insisted, however, and the Tibboo at length agreed to give her to me for the most beautiful of my women, with a young virgin slave and a stallion-camel. At nightfall, accordingly, he sent her to me, and I sent the camel and my two slaves. When,[318] however, I led my new acquisition to my tent, I perceived at once that it was not the one I had seen. This one appeared detestable to me. I was in great distress, and sent a man to the Tibboo to explain the mistake. But he answered that he had no slave but that one; that a bargain was a bargain; and that he meant to abide by what had been done. This embarrassed me; but after much praying and begging, and many messages, I obtained my two slaves back in exchange for his one; but he refused obstinately to give me back my camel. Then I began to seek for the girl who had so fascinated me, and soon learned that she belonged to another Tibboo, who loved her passionately, and who was loved by her in turn; and that not for her weight in gold would he part with her.

When we were about to start, once for all, from the Three Mountains, we received a message that we were expected, each of us, to give a measure of dokhn (millet) to his majesty the Sultan, and were obliged to comply. The grain was emptied out into a skin and carried away. We thought this was the last extortion; but the Sultan himself now appeared and began to ferret about our tents and baggage, appropriating whatever he took a fancy to, cords, baskets, &c., making presents to himself, and murmuring,—“I am the Sultan of this country, the master of this route; whoever refuses me anything shall not depart.” No sooner was this visit satisfactorily concluded, than his mercenary queen came[319] to take her share of the spoils; and then the common Tibboos, each of whom pretended to be a king’s son. Thus no apparent object of any value was left us. We came into the country rich, and we left it poor. For myself, I departed almost with tears in my eyes, thinking of the male slave who had escaped, and the girls he had taken with him.

We now entered on the desert, by which we were to approach Catroun, the first town on the borders of Fezzan. A hundred and fifty of the Tibboo-Reshad accompanied us a little in the rear. If we forgot a knife, or wooden cup—as caravans always do—they were ready to snap everything up; and if a camel fell, they were near to seize on the carcass. When one of our beasts of burden showed signs of knocking up, indeed, we had to comply with the customs of the desert—namely, to abandon our own beast, and hire a new one of the Tibboos. The old one is often kept by them, and fed and nourished into a useful animal again.

The Tibboos will not allow their hired camels to carry a single pound above the weight agreed at the outset. They are very careful of their beasts. The man whose camel I was obliged to hire walked in the morning in front of his beast, leading it by the bridle, plucking herbs as he went along, and feeding it; after midday he left the bridle, and went hither and thither collecting food to give it at halting time. In this way the camels of the Tibboos are always[320] kept in good health and strength, whilst those of the caravans become emaciated and worn out.

These people are very simple and ignorant. One of our people, named Abd-Allah, had a gold watch, which he used to hang by a branch of a tree when he rested in the shade. At the last station in the Tibboo country fatality decreed that he should leave it suspended. The savages came as usual to search about, and saw what they imagined to be a lump of precious metal swinging from a branch. One of them seized it with joy; but suddenly heard a noise and put it near his ear. Immediately he imagined that there was a devil inside, and dashing it against the branch of a tree, took to flight with his companions into the desert When Abd-Allah came back, therefore, to look for his watch, he found only the fragments. Cursing the time he had stayed there, he pursued his journey until the evening, and then inquired among the Tibboos who had done this thing. One came forward and boasted that he had dashed the devil to pieces; so Abd-Allah made a note of him, and on arriving at Mourzouk cited him before the Kadi, and compelled him to pay damages to the extent of forty dollars.

The Tibboos are the most ceremonious people in the world. When they meet, they squat down one opposite the other, looking serious and calm, well wrapped up in their lithams, with a lance in one hand and a buckler in the other. They then growl[321] out an interminable series of compliments, after which they talk of business, and often end with a regular fight. If, for example, one of them alludes, by way of reproach, to any loss he has sustained from the others, blows are sure to follow. They are the most avaricious of men, and will strip a whole caravan for a bit of leather.

We were ten days in crossing the desert that separated us from Fezzan. It is without water. We travelled several hours after night and before morning, in order to avoid the torment of heat and thirst. We hastened on as rapidly as possible. On our last night’s march most of the travellers had no water left, and some had only a very small quantity. I had still four skins left, and I had had the good idea of enclosing two of my skins in the guerfehs, or large leather bags, to prevent evaporation by the sun; the other two were fastened to my camel. During the last night we marched hard until worn out with fatigue, and then halting, each slept where he could. Before closing my eyes I gave drink to such of my slaves as were thirsty; and then laid my head between my two skins. Near me lay Abd-Allah with his slaves, who drank all my water in the night, and I complained in the morning without obtaining redress.

My favourite slave was then one of the girls whom I had given with a camel to a Tibboo, as above mentioned, when I was bewildered with desire for another. About this time the poor thing was seized[322] with what is called “the thirst of the desert,” or sh;b. She had an unappeasable craving for drink; but the more water she drank the more she wanted. I feared for her life; but a Bedawin, named Khalyl, who was one of the caravan, perceiving my distress, said to me: “Give her some melted butter to drink, and her sufferings will cease.” I followed his advice, and in a very short time she was relieved. Then I placed her on a camel, for slaves usually walk, and the heat somewhat diminishing, she was quite cured. I afterwards learned that a caravan on its way to Mekka, having wandered from the right road, and having not a drop of water left, continued to exist entirely on a little melted butter for ten whole days. This is more extraordinary than what happened to my slave.

When we reached the well we halted for forty-eight hours, after which we proceeded until we reached Catroun.[58] This place is surrounded with palms, producing excellent dates, which the people eat in abundance at every repast. They likewise feed cattle and horses with them. Their territory is sandy and sterile. They are as black as the Soudanees; and consist of Tibboos who have settled there, with a small mixture of Fezzanees.
[323]CHAPTER XI.

Mourzouk — A beggarly Court — An Ulemah — A miserable Country — Why the City flourishes — A Man of Good Faith — The Beni Seyf and the Bischr — Departure for Tripoli — A grave Assembly — Agreeable Conversation — Arrival at Gharian — Infidel Bedawins — Tripoli — Journey to Tunis — Sheikh arrives at his Father’s House — Paternal Honesty — Omar sets out again for Wada; — The Sheikh’s Marriage — Death of his Father — Other Journeys — He goes to Egypt — Conclusion.

Having remained three days at Catroun, we went in four more to Mourzouk, usually called Zeylah. At the gates our slaves were counted and registered by the officers of the customs, as if we had been entering a great city. But Mourzouk is a wretched borough, inhabited by blacks from Afnou, and a heterogeneous population of Arabs from Tripoli, Jalou, Aujila, and Derna. It is situated in a plain, far from any other town or village. The bazaar is miserably small, containing only fourteen shops. A market is held every afternoon for about an hour and a half; and goods are then sold by a crier, who goes up and down, announcing the prices offered.

We were presented to the Sultan, as he calls[324] himself, although he is in reality a mere governor. He was the well-known Mountaser, who afterwards rebelled against the Pasha of Tripoli. He received us with much haughtiness, and with an attempt at state. I never saw such an enormous white turban as the one he wore. It was folded in the Mekka fashion,—that is, swelling more over the right temple than the left,—but the size was so ridiculously exaggerated, that his Majesty dared scarcely bend his head. I could not help laughing to myself at his airs of importance. He deigned to receive our presents, but addressed us not except by slight signs. Decorum in Fezzan consists in restraining the prodigality of ceremonies. The court of this mighty Sultan consisted of a number of fellows wrapped in old, worn-out blankets. They looked very wretched. I afterwards went to the Vizier Othman’s, and found him surrounded by a lot of dirty people playing on old tambourines and cracked flutes. Everything in this country is miserable. I could find no food to eat with pleasure, and spent three months there very wretchedly.[59]

Few strangers from the Magreb, or any other country, who are at all accustomed to easy living, can make up their minds to settle at Mourzouk. They say that a learned man, an Ulema, once[325] came to teach at that city. He was immediately surrounded by disciples; the crowd came to his lessons; he was listened to with avidity—which is the supreme happiness of men of science: yet, in spite of this, one morning the worthy Ulema ran away from the place in a great hurry. He could not put up with it any longer. “It is impossible to stand it,” said he. “Wherefore?” inquired some one.—“Wherefore? Why, because it is the veritable image of hell. Hell is hot,—so is Mourzouk: the damned are black,—so are the people of Mourzouk: hell has seven gates,—so has Mourzouk. What the deuce do you expect one to do in a place which completely answers the definition of hell?” So away he went as fast as he could.

Verily, it is an abominable country. Women sell themselves for a handful of barley,—at least so they say. Besides, there is not a dish which can be eaten with pleasure; there never falls a drop of rain; man and beasts live on the same food— dates: there is the abiding-place of fever, nourished by continual feeding on dates and barley-bread. Wheat is so rare that only the great people and the Sultan can indulge in it: butter is as difficult to be got as red sulphur. What can one do with the grease which is sold at Mourzouk for kitchen-stuff? What can one do in a country where men eat clover, with a little salt, as a delicacy, where a fowl costs half a mitkal of gold, and ten eggs are charged half a riyal? I have seen servants come before the[326] Women’s Kadi to complain that they had not enough to eat,—even of dates. In one word, merchants only have any cause to be pleased with Mourzouk; for they gain sometimes a thousand per cent there.

It is by the passage of the caravans that the city subsists. All those that come from Bornou, from Wada;, from Bagirmeh, and, indeed, both Western and Eastern Soudan, meet here. Merchants of Aujila ply between Egypt and Mourzouk; and those of Sokneh and Bengazi between Tripoli and Mourzouk, which has become a veritable central mart of commerce. The slaves preferred there are those of Haussa, the capital of Afnou; and, indeed, in all markets they fetch the highest prices. The Tuaricks and the Tuatee come for the purposes of trade to Mourzouk, where also pass the pilgrim caravans from all the West.

The people of Fezzan are remarkable for benevolence and probity, as an example will prove. A Fezzanee had dissipated his moderate fortune in extravagance, and was reduced to misery. Some days before the departure of a caravan for Soudan, accordingly, he went and cut a number of palm-leaves, and, taking the stems, wrapped them up carefully in thick cloth, making them appear like bales of merchandise. Then he placed them on a camel, and taking them into the city, paid a couple of douros on each as a tax; for it is the custom to make a fixed charge, and not to search. Having got[327] his two bales safe in his house, the Fezzanee went to the Vizier Othman, and said,—“To-morrow a caravan departs for Soudan. I have just received two bales of merchandise, which I cannot take with me; I will leave them with thee as a pledge, if thou wilt lend me two hundred dollars for the speculation I am going to undertake. When I return I will pay.” “Willingly,” said the vizier, trusting in his good faith. The bales were brought, the money was counted out, and the man departed. In six months he returned, having been fortunate, and went to the vizier, confessed his trick, paid back the money, and the two were ever afterwards friends. The Prophet has said,—“Good faith is the ark of salvation.”

I was detained long at Mourzouk, as I have said, and became weary and disgusted. The roads were infested by the tribe of Bedawins called the Beni Seyf-en-Nasr, who robbed and murdered travellers, so that even caravans dared not depart.[60] At length, however, I obtained an opportunity of departure under the conduct of one Bou-Bekr, a chief of the tribe of the Bischr. This tribe had formerly been defeated by the Beni Seyf, and forced to take refuge in Fezzan, where they settled, leaving their rivals in possession of the surrounding desert. Yusef Pasha, of Tripoli,[328] however, hearing of this, and wishing to employ them to reduce the Beni Seyf, had sent for their chief men to have an interview. It was with this deputation that I obtained permission to depart. Bou-Bekr told me to meet him at Shiatee, and giving me a guide, I departed with my camels, and in five days reached the place of rendezvous. Here I was well received by Bischr, the chief of the tribe, and treated in all respects as if I was one of them. So I waited patiently until the arrival of Bou-Bekr, rejoiced at having escaped from Mourzouk, feeding on milk and meat, and seeing with pleasure my camels pasturing on the excellent herbage which grows in the Wady of Shiatee.

On the arrival of Bou-Bekr the tribe collected in a general council to deliberate. Every one, old and young, came to discuss the general situation. I shall always remember the impression which this assembly produced upon me, and the freedom with which all the members expressed their opinions. Young people, children of from twelve to fifteen years of age, equally with the reverend people of the tribe, had a deliberative voice, and were listened to without excitement or indifference. No one held back from giving an opinion, and all opinions were duly weighed and considered. It was really a marvellous thing to see old men listening to, and weighing the words of, unbearded youths and mere children. The sight of no assembly ever moved me more. Such things are not seen, I believe, in any other[329] country. An assembly so calm, so attentive, so grave, representing all ages, gathered together to discuss a question of general interest to all ranks, is a model to be imitated by the peoples of the earth. I know not how behave the deliberative councils of France and England, but I am persuaded that both French and English might go and take a lesson of gravity and freedom, an example for the forms of public discussion, in the deserts of Africa, among the children of the tribes of Bischr. There are savages who have some good in them; there is wisdom even among louts; there are simpletons who can teach the wise; just as in the desert there are some oases, some spots of greenery.

It was decided that some of the principal men of the tribe should go to Tripoli with Bou-Bekr, whilst the others remained at Shiatee. The preparations that were necessary—such as collecting provisions, getting together water-skins, and so forth— lasted five days. On the sixth we departed, with an escort of twenty Arabs, and entered upon vast plains beyond the limits of Fezzan. The Bischr who accompanied us talked much, but had no topics but their own incursions, battles, and robberies. “Do you remember,” would they say one to the other, “how on such a day we made such an expedition—how we were attacked by such a tribe—how I killed such an one?—the whole tribe saw me give that famous blow!” This was the matter of conversation among these Bedawins during the entire[330] journey. We advanced for fifteen days over plains dotted with trees and covered with verdure. The Arabs constantly sent out scouts to watch the horizon and look sharp for ambuscades wherever the ground seemed to favour an attack. On the sixteenth day we reached the district of Gharian, which is well wooded and adorned with gardens, picturesque and wild places, springs of water and large ponds: saffron grows here, and fruits of various kinds. The people are good and hospitable. They lodge under ground; so that on approaching their villages only the minarets of the mosques are to be seen, and the houses set apart for strangers. We were well received, and generally halted at night near a village. All I had to complain of was the food. Their great dish is a thick paste soaked in oil, and seasoned with date-marmalade. I could never eat more than a couple of mouthfuls. We were five days in traversing this district, where we were in perfect safety, having nothing to fear but God.

I must say, however, that I was displeased with the Bischr, my companions, on account of their total indifference in matters of faith and law. They never pray; nothing is reprehensible or forbidden among them; crime and virtue are all one. They swear only by the oath of divorce. They continually boast of the number of enemies they have killed, of people they have robbed; and seem to think that time is lost which is not devoted to these occupations. I used to say to them, “Such works and[331] such a life are criminal, forbidden by God. Give up such habits; be corrected.” They would answer: “We are men of forbidden things; we live in them and by them. God has created us Bedawins of the desert, that we may do them.” I quoted the Koran and the maxims of the Prophet, at which they laughed and treated me as a fool. One of them, named Katar, said, that if I had not been under the protection of Bou-Bekr, he would long ago have seized my camels and my slaves. In fact, these tribes regard nothing as sacred: if there are any pious men among them they are very aged and decrepit. All their Islamism consists in repeating the Profession of Faith.[61]

Leaving Gharian, we proceeded towards Tripoli, when the first thing we saw was a man hanging over the gateway. I did not long remain there. It is a city not nearly so great as its reputation. There are two gates, one towards the market-place; the other towards the sea. The houses remind me of those of Alexandria, before it was embellished by Mohammed Ali. All the merchants nearly are natives of the island of Jirbeh. At Tripoli I sold all my slaves, except one from Bagirmeh, named Zeitoun, whom I loved. Then I set out by sea for[332] Tunis, and having visited Safakes, at length arrived in sight of my native place. We recognised it by its dazzling whiteness, by the glittering panes of its houses, by its eaves of shining tin, by its cupolas covered with semi-cylindrical tiles, and varnished green.

We went to the okella (hotel) of travellers from Safakes. I hired two asses, and placing on them my kitchen-utensils and bedding, mounted one myself, and placed my slave on the other. Then we penetrated into the interior of the town, asking for my father’s house. I found that he had gone to a country dwelling, and proceeding thither, found at length my father walking in the garden. He had a dozen concubines, five fellow-servants, and the black servant; and he had given a young slave to his mother.

I was received with distinction and apparent joy. My two cousins, young girls, came to salute me, and so did my sister and my grandmother. I related my adventures, but said nothing of the money which was in my belt, and begged my slave to keep the secret.

Towards evening my father caused a bath to be prepared, and told me to wash myself from the dust of travel. Unsuspecting, I complied; and the attendant, when I was undressed, took up my old garments and carried them away, leaving in their place a new Tunisian dress. It happened that my father took up my girdle, and finding it heavy,[333] knew that it contained money. He accordingly appropriated the whole. I dared not at first remonstrate, but did so at length through the medium of a friend. My father was very angry, and said that whatever I had belonged to him; that he had supplied the capital, and was the cause of the favour of the Sultan of Wada;; and that if I ever alluded to the subject again I should be turned out of doors. So I was reduced to silence.

Some time afterwards, however, my father, feeling the roving disposition come over him again, called to me, and said: “I wish to undertake a second journey to Wada;, and bring back my children with the rest of my family, and arrange all my affairs. Remain, then, at the sanieh. I give it to you, with the land adjoining, in exchange for the money I have had of yours. Watch over this little domain and cultivate it. I leave for that purpose oxen and tools. In the warehouse is abundance of barley for cattle, and of wheat for seed. I leave to your care my mother and your cousins.” I requested my father not to undertake such a journey, and offered to go in his place, but he would not listen to my advice; and having made his preparations, started with many presents for the Sultan of Wada;.

I settled at the sanieh without money, but with my grandmother and cousins to support. I cultivated the ground; and when I was in want sold a portion of my store of barley. Soon after my father’s departure, my grandmother advised me to[334] marry the younger of my cousins, and I at length consented. Two years passed, and I received news of my father’s death from Tripoli. I repaired there, and met Sedan, my father’s slave. He told me that he had been sent to Mourzouk to sell slaves, and had realised nine hundred and sixty dollars; but that Moknee, who was then governor of Fezzan, had taken them from him. This determined me to return across the desert. I reached Mourzouk in safety, and with some difficulty got back my money. Then I started for Wada; again; but on the borders of the country of the Tibboo-Reshad I met a large caravan, with which was my Uncle Zarouk. I found that he had appropriated my father’s property; and it was only after a violent quarrel that I got back a portion—namely, a number of slaves.

I returned to Tunis with my slaves, and soon afterwards disposed of my sanieh, which I found to be a losing concern. Then I went to live in Tunis itself, and passed there two years, during which I spent a great part of my fortune. Fearing poverty, I determined to undertake the pilgrimage to Mekka, and carry merchandise with me. My wife refused to accompany me; so I started alone, on board a brig, which touched first at Susa. Whilst we stayed here I made a little excursion to Cairawan. Eleven days afterwards we sighted Alexandria. From this place I went to Cairo, where I was rejoiced to find my mother alive and well. I gave her a hundred piastres for her expenses. Seven days after my arrival[335] I bought an Abyssinian slave, a beautiful girl, gentle and honest. Her heart was good and loving, and she shared my joys and sorrows. I kept her for six years, until she died (A.D. 1821) of the plague. No loss ever grieved me more than the loss of my beautiful Abyssinian girl, whom may God regard with mercy!
CONCLUDING NOTE.

The Sheikh now reverts to his last voyage to Fezzan, and gives further details. After this he promises to write what befell him during his pilgrimage to Mekka, and in a visit he subsequently made to the Morea; but this portion of his work he has not yet executed. I have thought it best to give but a mere outline of the concluding section of his travels. What I have presented will impart some idea of the kind of life led by these Oriental wandering merchants, and enable us to understand the working of the Mohammedan social system, and especially of polygamy. The reader will not have failed to perceive that the intercourse of the sexes becomes almost fortuitous; that filial and parental affection are necessarily weakened and nearly destroyed; and that natural sentiments, though they show themselves now and then, do so in a merely episodical[336] and unimportant way. The great bane of Muslim civilisation is this idea, that women are an article of property. The worthy Sheikh, who so regrets his Abyssinian girl, forgets to tell us what became of Zeitoun. He had loved another slave also, but had endeavoured to change her away to satisfy a momentary caprice. These reflections, however, will have suggested themselves to the sagacious reader.

THE END